I found myself looking into the narrowed eyes of the coin merchant, with the huge bulk of the angry silver dealer looming behind him.
"That's him!" charged the man who had been only too willing to buy my bauble.
Before the merchant could grab, and presumably throttle, me, the same two guards who had pitched the fop into the alley seized me by the shoulders and shook me roughly.
"Did you steal a necklace from this man's wagon?" demanded one of the men-at-arms.
"Yes!" I cried eagerly, even as I tried to think of a way to lie my way out of this. My hand flew upward, clapping across my treacherous mouth as I gaped in astonishment, appalled by my involuntary honesty.
"But—" I groped for a way to dispute my confession as my mouth continued to babble away in full betrayal. "I climbed along an oak limb, ducked down into the wagon, and snatched it from below the counter."
I pictured a hangman's noose settling around my neck. The image sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn't enough to shut me up. "That is, we were hungry, and Saysi wouldn't let me steal anything. But I'm a very skilled thief, and when she nodded off on the bench, this fat fellow looked like the best target."
"Insolent runt!" growled the merchant, lunging.
"Well, you are fat!" I retorted, asserting righteously in my own mind that I was only telling the truth. But why?
"I know it was wrong," I declared. "And I'm sorry." Turning to Saysi, I continued. "I wasn't going to tell you, and that's wrong, too."
"But now you're telling me? Telling everyone?" she gasped. To my surprise, and relief, she looked more worried than angry.
"Well, it was wrong," I said lamely. "I see that now."
"A little too late!" declared the guard. "It's off to the magistrate with you!"
"I understand."
Nodding agreeably, I turned to the merchant. "Here's the money," I told him helpfully, pulling out my pouch and emptying the platinum and gold coins into his outstretched hand, though I held on to the chip of ebony stick. "I think I got a pretty good price for the piece. It was a nice necklace."
Scowling suspiciously, the man snatched away the coins, his eyes glittering avariciously as he ascertained the value. When he looked back at me, his expression was guarded, as if he feared he were in the presence of madness. "What kind of a thief are you?" he growled.
"A halfling. I'm quiet and nimble—quite good at picking locks, if I say so myself. Let's see..."
"Enough! Time to go." The man-at-arm's grip tightened on my shoulder as he jerked me toward the door.
"You come along!" declared the second guard, dropping a heavy hand onto Saysi's shoulder. Still stunned by my confession, she made no move to object.
"I told you she didn't have anything to do with it!" I objected crossly. "She won't let me steal, so I have to do it when I can get away with it, when she doesn't know."
"Yeah—and halflings can fly and turn eight shades of blue!" sneered the second guard.
"I'm telling the truth. I wouldn't lie!" I declared, righteously indignant.
Indeed, the very idea of speaking a falsehood was unthinkable, though I realized with surprise that this was the first time in my life I'd ever felt that way. More important, I started to fear that I'd placed Saysi in a great deal of danger. The hangman's noose I had earlier imagined wasn't just an idle flight of fancy.
"You just told us you're a thief. In my book, that makes you a liar as well." The guard's logic was impeccable, in a twisted sort of way.
Further protest on my part was interrupted by a shriek of inhuman terror from somewhere—the alley behind the gaming hall, I guessed. Something banged loudly into the wall, then again, splintering the planks and setting all the chandeliers to swinging wildly.
"Earthquake!" someone screamed, diving to the floor. Panic spread through the crowded hall, and I was jostled by a stampede of gargantuan humans rushing toward the door.
Again something smashed into the wall, and this time the barrier caved in. A messy orb tumbled through the gaping, splintered hole, rolling across the floor. More of the gamblers, shrieking and screaming in terror, fled in every direction, scattering tables and even ignoring tumbling coins.
"By the gods, what's that?" demanded the merchant.
I knew immediately. I recognized the thin lips, the small chin, the narrow, pinched nose. Even without the fancy hat, the fop who had sold me the ebony stick of healing was clearly recognizable.
At least, his head was. I didn't have any idea what had happened to the rest of him. The gaping hole flanked by splintered planks in the side of the gaming hall showed only darkness beyond.
More screams, female in tone, shrilled from the alley. I was forgotten for the moment as the two guards drew swords and charged across the room, far braver than I.
The silver merchant's face had gone pale as he stared at the head of the gambler. The gory object rested upright, and the sightless eyes seemed to study the big fellow's horrified features.
"Do you want to take me to the magistrate, or should we wait for them?" I inquired, gesturing at the guards, who now peered cautiously through the gaping hole in the wall. Once again I was astonished by my own honesty, yet I knew that fleeing would be, well, it would just be wrong.
"Kip!" Saysi grabbed me by the shoulder, whirling me around so that she could stare into my eyes. "What's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean? I thought I was doing the right thing!" My feelings were hurt. After all, if anyone should understand this, it was good old straightlaced Saysi.
"Come on. We're getting out of here!" she declared, seizing my hand in a surprisingly strong grip.
"But I'm supposed to go with them!"
The guards, blades extended, were arguing as to which of them should go into the alley first.
"Something is wrong," Saysi said seriously. "But this isn't the place to talk. Come on!"
One of the guards suddenly screamed in shock, tumbling backward into the room, his face obscured by a film of blood. The remaining gamblers, who had just begun to creep back to the overturned tables, fled in renewed panic, knocking Saysi and me apart in the stampede.
"Kip—here, take my hand!" The priestess's shrill voice reached me through the mob, and I reached between two burly drunks to grab her. One of the men lurched, knocking me to the floor, and the other plopped his iron-cleated boot onto my ankle. I heard the snap of bone at the same time rivers of agony coursed up my leg.
"Damn!" I cried, biting back further expressions of pain. I heard Saysi scream nearby, lost somewhere amid the stampede of legs and feet. Catching a glimpse of copper curls, I limped through the throng, helping her to her feet.
Stumbling desperately, I let Saysi pull me along with the crowd of fleeing gamblers, and we finally broke from the press of the fleeing bodies. I rose to my feet, hobbling on my good leg, and together we stumbled into the cool night of Oakvale's main street.
"This way!" she urged, pulling me along the avenue, away from the inn. Limping for a few steps, I shook my head in confusion, then came to a halt.
"I don't know," I balked, surprised at her behavior. "Don't you think I should wait here for the guards?"
CHAPTER 4
STALKERS OF CHAOS
"I knew you stole that money! I confess I was surprised by how much, but how could I not know how you got it?"
"But—but—" I gaped, probably somewhat stupidly, at Saysi. "How did you know?"
She confronted me with an expression that seemed, surprisingly, more concerned than angry. "You really don't get it, do you? I'm your friend—I know you. I even think I understand you."
We were back in the central square of Oakvale, sitting on the bench where I had left her sleeping just a half day before. My broken ankle had been cured, patched up like new, by Saysi's healing spell. The plaza was mostly dark, illuminated only by the flickering torches and lanterns set outside the dozen or so inns and gaming houses that lined the three sides of the great marketplace. On the fourth, where the river
flowed softly, all was darkness, as if in dire warning of the bleak wilderness of ogre lairs and worse stretching beyond the watercourse.
Because of the huge oak trees, the torchlight in the square was sporadic at best, and our bench was almost completely screened by shadow. A few people drifted here and there—lovers out for a private walk, others with more sinister purposes, perhaps—but we had the nearby area all to ourselves.
"I knew because that's how you always get money when we need it. You didn't think I believed that you'd actually worked for it, did you? Do you think I'm stupid?"
Something in her tone suggested that I had better tread very carefully, but that wasn't enough to shut my newly honest mouth.
"Yes. That is, I thought you believed me." Her sharp intake of breath was her only reaction as I blundered on. "Not that you're stupid; I wish I was half as smart as you. It's just that I know how you feel about stealing, and I thought you'd leave me, go away somewhere, if you thought I was a thief."
"I know you're a thief!" she snapped, though she didn't sound as angry as she could have. "It's what you do! Or at least, it's what you did."
She looked along the street, toward the wide avenue leading to the Red Garter, then turned back to scrutinize me. There was that soft look of concern again, melting my heart like the liquid chocolate color of her eyes. Of course, I had always known she was pretty, but it was shocking to think that I had never understood the full extent of her beauty. Now she took my breath away, set my heart pounding like a blacksmith's hammer.
"I have to confess," she concluded with a wry smile, "you could have picked a better time to reform."
For the first time since I'd pulled out the money to pay for the ebony stick, her tone softened slightly. "You did change, didn't you? Did you do it for me?"
Lie, I told myself. She's going to forgive you! Tell her you did change for her!
"No." I sagged miserably, listened to her sigh in resignation. "I—I don't know why I felt I had to be honest in the gaming hall, or even right now, with you. But if I told you I changed because of you, it wouldn't be the truth."
Another thought occurred to me, once again compelling my mouth to move in directions that I wasn't sure the rest of me wanted to follow. "You knew I stole to get us money? But you let me take you to an inn, buy food and lodging. Isn't that against Patrikon's doctrine?"
"Patrikon's rules are good ones," she said after a moment's thought. "But he is an understanding god, and a forgiving one. I think he knows that you weren't trying to hurt anyone. If anything, you were trying to help me, to take care of me. I guess I make that kind of difficult sometimes."
I shook my head in amazement, wanting to ask her about other times. She had hinted, after all, that she knew this wasn't the first time I had deceived her. Still, the words were hard to form. Turning to the little halfling maid beside me, I wanted only to tell her the truth, let her know that I had changed, my thieving days were behind me.
But I still didn't know why.
I took her hands, seeing the luminous pools of her eyes even in the thick darkness. "Saysi, you're the most important person in the world to me. I hate the thought of you going away, of having to live without you. But I've always been who I am. I don't know what made me stop being that person!" Squeezing hard, I started to draw her close, wanting very much for her to understand.
Saysi winced and pulled one hand away—not because of reluctance, I sensed, but because she was hurt. I couldn't see her face as she turned away from me in the shadows.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
She grimaced and raised her left hand. "When we fell down outside the inn, someone stepped on my wrist. I think it might be broken."
"You should have told me!" Now guilt rose anew. Here I'd let her haul me along as if I were some kind of helpless idiot, healing me with her magical curing, and she herself had suffered a broken bone!
"Let me see," I added gently.
She extended her arm, and I heard her gasp when I touched a fingertip to her wrist, which was swollen and quite warm to the touch. I saw that her whole wrist was inflamed, discolored to an angry red. Despite her brave stoicism, I knew that she must be in severe pain.
"My curing spell will return after I get a good night's sleep.... Patrikon will give me the power after my morning prayers. I'll be all right until then."
"The chip of wood! It can heal you right now!" I said excitedly, reaching into my pouch for the ebony stick. Gingerly I placed the thing against her arm, as I had seen the fop do for the cut on the fighter's thigh. A buzzing sensation pulsed through my hand. I didn't see or hear anything, but I felt the power in the little chip of wood and watched in wonder as Saysi's throbbing limb quickly shrank back to its original delicate proportions.
"Your wrist—how does it feel?" I asked.
Saysi touched her skin in wonder, bending her hand back and forth, raising it to inspect the formerly angry-looking wound. "It feels fine. The pain is gone."
"I guess that poor fellow was telling the truth after all," I admitted, dropping the wooden curing stick back into my pouch. I shuddered at the memory of the blood-spattered head, face locked in an expression of supreme horror, tumbling through the hole in the wall and rolling across the floor.
"Now what do we do?" Saysi wondered, sitting up and stretching. Though pale dawn had begun to glimmer in the east, Oakvale was still hours away from daytime activity. Even the lovers and lonely strollers who had drifted around the plaza in the midnight hours had apparently gone somewhere to sleep. We were the only people in sight.
For the first time since our encounter in the gaming hall, I gave some thought to the immediate future. We had no money, hardly any possessions—just Goldfinder, the keen short sword I still wore at my side, and the shiny black stub of a curing stick, and we shared an unspoken reluctance to return to the Red Garter, where I had paid for three nights in advance.
"I... I guess I could look for a job—I mean, a real job," I suggested hesitantly. It was the honest thing to do, though the prospect sounded startlingly bleak when I heard it from my own lips.
"Or I could," Saysi said quickly. "Or we could find a temple, maybe one in a larger town, and ask the high priests for suggestions. I'm a full-fledged priestess, you know. My skills are worth something."
Sadly, I reflected that, to an honest human or halfling, my skills weren't good for much at all. Stealth, lockpicking, pilfering, and such had little place in the sweaty, bustling world of honest work. As I ticked off these considerations, another thought came to me. "That silver merchant's still going to want me in irons. He'll probably be along sometime today...."
"No! I don't want to you see him!" Saysi said with surprising forcefulness.
I stopped to consider the situation. Turning myself in was still the right thing to do, I realized, but it had become a little more complicated. Did I just abandon Saysi to her fate, leaving her alone in a town full of humans, with no friendly temple for miles? That most definitely did not seem like the right thing to do.
The greedy fellow had seemed all too willing to include Saysi in the punishment for a crime that had been mine alone, and that was a clear and obvious wrong. I knew immediately that I couldn't allow that to happen.
"Maybe we should leave Oakvale, go to another town," I said hesitantly.
Before Saysi could reply, we heard the urgent noise of an animal whining behind us. We whirled to see a large hound creep toward our bench. The animal's tail and head were low, more beseeching than threatening. Advancing cautiously around the bench, the dog placed its head on the boards beside me.
"What is it, hound? Are you hungry?" I asked, feeling immediate and intuitive sympathy for the animal. "I wish we could help you."
The question made perfect sense, I realized, noticing that I was getting pretty hungry myself. My words reminded me that I had to do something.
The animal made a chuffing sound and raised its head, looking at me with eyes of melancholy brown, moist orbs that glea
med with startling urgency, as if the dog were trying to communicate something of great importance.
"Is she hurt?" asked Saysi, kneeling beside the hound and looking at each of its forepaws. "Nothing's wrong that I can see."
The dog's coat was scruffy, with several burrs matted along her shoulders. Still, when I stroked her head and neck, I felt solid muscle. This was no scrawny, starving mutt, nor was the pleading manner a sign of meekness. The animal's broad face rose, loudly snuffling the air, the gaze of the bright brown eyes was bold and alert.
Abruptly the dog cocked her head, turning penetrating eyes across the plaza, toward the row of buildings on the near edge of the square. I felt bristling hackles rise beneath my hands, saw the dog's tail stiffen and lash in obvious tension.
"Kip—what is it?" There was real fear in Saysi's voice, and in her fingers, which suddenly came to rest around my arm. I blinked, uncertain in the dim light of exactly what we were seeing.
My gaze focused on the brown planks of a warehouse. They seemed to be moving, slowly melting before my eyes. A warm glow suffused the wall, or, rather, a large portion of it. A circular shape took form there, about the size of a wide set of double doors.
But there was no door there. The entrance to the warehouse was clearly visible, barred and bolted, several feet to the side of the strange distortion. Moments earlier, I felt certain, the planks there would have been as warped and weathered as the rest of the old building's wall.
I had a peculiar, frightening realization: The place on the other side of that shimmering barrier was not the inside of this mundane storage building, was not like anywhere or any place that we had ever seen.
Cream-colored light spilled between brightening chinks in the plank walls. It was not the illumination of the sun, but neither was it cast by any lamp, lantern, or fire. The hound, legs stiff, growled like a rumbling bear and stepped protectively in front of Saysi and me. The dog's hackles bristled, and her black lip curled back to reveal sharp, white fangs.
My eyes remained fixed upon the shifting, surreal brightness. The outline of mundane boards faded, pale light washing away any resemblance to a solid surface. Glowing, the power surged like an unrestrainable force seeking, growing toward, an explosive release.
The Rod of Seven Parts Page 6
